Down the Rabbit Hole
by emebalia
Summary: After his encounter with the Winchesters Special Agent Victor Henriksen has to make a decision. No slash, rated for language just to be sure. Second in the Victor 'verse *COMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, I'm just playing with Kripke's toys

**Timeline:** Second Season somewhere between FPB and AHBL

**Author's note:** This is the second part of my Victor 'verse. To understand this you should probably read the first part "Take a Seat".

* * *

><p><strong>Down the Rabbit Hole<strong>

Special Agent Victor Henriksen went to work on Monday as if nothing had happened. The white bandage at his forearm was perfectly covered under his sleeve so nobody should notice. Dean had been right it didn't need to be stitched.

Victor looked into familiar faces, but they looked strange. Not that he could put his finger on it. However it felt strange. His colleges, his boss, his office, his whole life felt strange.

"Victor." His boss greeted him. "Got your head free? Recharged your energy?"

Where did he get those phrases from? Some management seminar _How to encourage you employees?_

He plastered a fake smile on his face. "Yeah, got a new angle for this case. Almost like I spent a few days with those wackos."

"Good, good. We need a breakthrough in this case quick." He smiled weakly, already distracted focusing someone at the other side of the office. "I can feel them breathing in my neck. Hey, Mel, got a minute?" And he stormed off. Victor had not to asked who _they_ where. There were always people up the ladder who wanted results. Preferably yesterday. Fricking politicians.

Victor escaped into his office and shut the door. Breathing heavily he slammed into his chair.

_Is Sam all right?_ Rachel Donovan's voice echoed through his mind. He had spoken to her. After he introduced himself her first question was if Sam was all right. Then she told him how Sam Winchester saved her life by wrestling down a monster. Got clawed up badly that way. Victor had known this part. He had a first row seat for the aftermath of Sam hugging a wendigo as Dean had phrased it.

_I bet the so called heroes were the ones who kidnapped those people in the first place. Why else would they just disappear?_, was what Victor heard as he spoke to the local police. A week ago Victor would have agreed with them. Today he followed Rachel's train of thoughts. _Is Sam all right?_ He hoped so but he had no way to know. After the Winchesters had left they once again just vanished. Maybe they would pop up somewhere on the other side of the country in a few days. Maybe not.

Victor took out his badge and ran his fingers over the metal. Fourteen years he worked for the FBI now. How many people did he save in all those years? It took month sometimes years for one breakthrough.

After a few days of work the Winchesters had saved three people and god knows how many more.

Out of his pocket he pulled a little plastic bag. It wasn't labeled, this was not official evidence. Officially he had never been abducted. He hadn't told anybody.

Making a decision he reached for the phone.

"Rick? This is Victor. Could you do me a favor?"

On TV lab results came in within hours. In real life it took days sometimes weeks to do all the tests. Even Rick the self-proclaimed genius of the lab had no magic tricks to make the machines do their work faster. Maybe he should ask Dean Winchester if he knew how to do the trick. Victor chuckled to himself at this thought but wondered if Dean actually did know how to work magic. He wouldn't be surprised if the answer was _yes_.

Victor used the time he waited for the results to go over the Winchester case again.

Before his encounter with them he had sorted the witness reports in three categories: Those who were scared to death by the famous Dean Winchester so they denied they had ever met him. Even facing hard proof telling the opposite. Though he could nearly smell their fear he now asked himself what they feared. Was it really Dean or something else?

Than there were those people who talked but left out a hole bunch. For them the Winchesters often were heroes who had saved them but they wouldn't tell from what they were saved. Victor now got an idea for that one.

Last were the nutjobs who told stories which would make good horror movies. Reading through the reports of this category Victor's guts clenched. Maybe they weren't nutjobs at all. He considered himself a little more open minded now then last week and perhaps those horror stories were true after all. Chewing his bottom lip he turned page after page. If this was all real, what did it do to him? If there were monsters out there could he just ignore it and went on like he never found out?

_You are at the beginning of a very dangerous and most likely deadly path. I highly recommend you to stop before it's to late, _Dean had said. Was it too late already?, Victor wondered.

His phone rang and pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Rick here. Got your results. Can you come down here?"

Minutes later Victor entered the lab. Rick was bend over a table, glasses low on his nose, occupied with some papers. One hand absently fiddling with a little plastic bag.

"What you got?" He was curious. Witness reports were one thing but this was hard proof.

"Not what you want, I'm sorry." Rick gave him a printout with graphs and numbers he couldn't make sense of.

"What do you mean?" He didn't show it however this was the answer he had hoped for. Or feared, he wasn't sure.

"This … claw … or whatever it is." He stopped searching for the right words. "It was covered in blood. Human blood. I can run a test if you want, see if it's in the system."

"No that is not necessary. That is the one thing I already know." Sam's blood. He had seen how Dean had pulled this thing out of his brothers flesh. "Don't wanna let you risk your job with more off the record tests."

"That's what friends are for." He grinned. "By the way, you're still on board with poker on Saturday?"

"Sure." Victor said not actually sure if he cared about poker with his friend anymore. It seemed so … pointless. "What can you tell me about the claw?"

"Right, the claw … it must have been contaminated at some point." He shrugged his shoulders as if he wanted to say that it wasn't his fault. "Shit, I can't even tell if this thing is from an animal or a human … you know, if people had claws and all."

"Can you tell what kind of animal it would be?"

"No clue. Bring me a clean sample and I probably can tell you more. Maybe a zoologist could help you." He took his glasses off and cleaned them with his sleeve. "Where did you get it anyway? Never seen something like that before."

"Me neither." Victor murmured. He grabbed the plastic bag with that damn claw. "Thanks, Rick. I owe you one."

Victor knew a zoologist who had helped him in a case a few years back. He made an appointment with the guy and brought him the claw. Like any other case he wanted to be thorough even when he knew the answer already. Instead of giving him an answer the guy asked questions.

Where did you get it? Have you seen the animal? Can I keep it to show it to my colleges? Can I write a paper about it so I get famous?

Victor grabbed the claw before the guy could accidentally _loose_ it.

Back in his apartment Victor sat with a beer in one hand and that damn thing in the other. Maybe getting drunk would solve all his problems. Before he could set that plan into action the door bell rang. Victor was tempted to ignore it but then stood up with a sigh and opened the door.

"Hey Vic, how are you?" Rick's cheerfully voice ringing in his ear. At least he had a six pack under his arm.

"Fine." Victor guided him into the living room. They took their seats and Rick helped himself with a beer.

"You seemed a bit off the last few days." There was a pause giving him the chance to explain himself. Victor just took a sip of his beer.

"Well, I was thinking about that claw thing." Rick continued when Victor kept silent. "Just curious, you got anything out of that zoologist?"

"No, he has never seen something like that before." Victor took another sip. "Wanted to write a paper about it."

"Yeah." Rick snored. "So, where did you get it?"

"Found it. Can we keep it that way?" He considered Rick a friend but he didn't want to involve him farther into this. But not such luck. Rick kept quiet for a minute and Victor could sense he was searching for the right words to say something.

"You are not quite yourself." He started. "Not since the boss forced you to take a few days off." Another pause but Victor had no intention to fill it. "Something happened that weekend?"

"What should have happened?" Victor tried to keep his voice even.

"I don't know. You had an encounter with the owner of the claw?" He guessed.

"Never saw that thing." And that was the truth.

"What happened to you arm?" So he had noticed the bandage.

"I shouldn't play with knives." Victor said but didn't explain it farther.

"I'm your friend." Rick lead out a sigh. "Do I really have to ask?"

"Ask what?" He clenched the beer bottle harder in his fist.

"When did you got close enough to Sam Winchester to get his blood on that damn thing?"

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

_When did you get close enough to Sam Winchester to get his blood on that damn thing? _Victor should have expected this question. Rick was the lab genius for a reason and he usually was the cat curiosity killed. This time maybe literally.

"So you did the test." It wasn't a question.

"The test you said was unnecessary because you already knew whose blood it was." Rick said eying him closely.

Victor took a sip of his beer just to gain time. "Did you tell anybody?" He finally asked avoiding to look his friend in the eye.

"Tell what?" Rick ran a hand through his hair. Was he nervous? "That I did some tests for you off the record? I like my job." He sighed. "Did he cut you?" He nodded towards Victor's bandaged arm.

"No. That was an accident I was stupid enough to do myself." He didn't add the fact it happened while he had cut himself from a chair Sam Winchester had tied him to. And looking back it hadn't been necessary at all. They had caught him as he tried to escape but they had let him go afterwards anyway.

"I'm your friend." Rick repeated. "You can talk to me, man."

"It's because you are my friend I don't talk."

Rick ran his fingers once again through his hair. With his glasses low on his nose he looked like a mad scientist.

"What do you expect me to do?" He finally asked.

"Nothing." Victor looked him in the eye, his voice firm. "It's not official evidence. Just forget it, OK?" After a pause he added. "I quit."

"You what?"

"First thing tomorrow I'll hand in my resignation." It was nothing he had planned not even thought about but it felt right. For the first time since he went back to work on that Monday something felt right. Thinking about it Victor realized he had made this decision the moment he convinced the maid who found him gagged and tied to that damn chair not to call the police.

"You have to be kidding me." Rick watched him as if Victor had lost his mind. "You love your job and you are damn good at it, too. You can't just quit."

"Something has changed." Victor said finding his beer bottle suddenly very interesting. He tinkered with the label pulling little bits and pieces off. Once again he wondered if Sam was alright. Next to him Rick let out a deep sigh before he spoke.

"What happened?"

"You don't want to know." He said before he even realized what he just said. The same words he had heard from both Winchesters. _You don't want to know._ He snored. Yeah, wasn't that ironic?

"Look, I'm tiered ..." Victor started. Rick hold up his hands in surrender.

"I know a kick-out when I see one." He emptied his beer bottle. "All I ask is, sleep on it before you do something you'll regret later."

"I will." But Victor was done thinking. The FBI wasn't the right place for him anymore. What the right place was he wasn't sure but he would find out.

"If you want to talk, call me. Anytime."

"Sure."

After Rick had left Victor sat for long hours the same half empty beer bottle in one hand and the claw in the other.

The next morning Victor quit; left his badge and gun and his boss with this disbelieving look on his face behind.

He didn't see Rick but not an hour later he called.

"You did it." Rick said instead of a greeting. "You half-brain moron really did it."

"I had to."

"Now what?" If he could Rick would strangle him through the phone. "You get yourself a crappy job as a night-watchman? Screw all the hard work you, screw your job, screw your life. For what?" Rick yelled loud enough it hurt in Victor's ear. It hurt in his heart too. Rick was a friend. The only real friend he had. He meant well, he was concerned. As his friend it was his fricking job to be concerned. And from his point of view Victor just did the stupidest thing in his life.

"I don't know yet." Victor had to admit. "But I'll figure it out."

"You'll figure it out. You'll fig... Why can't you figure it out while you still have a fucking job and get paid?" His words burned like acid.

"I have to do this." Victor let out a sigh. He rubbed his eyes and felt a headache lingering behind them.

"Yeah, whatever." The line was cut off.

Two days later Victor still tried to figure out how to start his new life. He had started with research on the things Dean had told him about in the wee hours of the morning while Sam was knocked out by painkillers and blood loss. Wendigos, shapeshifters and vengeful spirits. He found nothing Dean hadn't told him before. Nothing how to actually find those things. After that he tried to figure out the Winchester movement pattern. He had done this before. Long nights in his dark office with cold coffee and burning eyes. He even had a map with pins in different colors; white for sightings of the brothers, blue for impersonating an officer, green for B&E, yellow for credit card fraud, red for arson and finally black for murder. There were all combinations of that colors on his map, sometimes just two of them. However there was always a black one.

Almost everywhere they showed up Victor found newspaper articles of some kind of murder dated before the Winchesters arrived. But nothing caught his eye. Why they picked these murders and not others he couldn't tell. Hell he wasn't even sure if this articles meant something or not. Frustrated he shut the laptop and shoved it away.

He should have asked Dean when he had the chance. Maybe he should try to find the Winchesters. Yeah, as if that was an easy task.

His phone rang. Victor looked at the caller ID. If it was Rick again he would just ignore him. He was sick of talking to him. It wasn't a number he knew.

"Hello?"

"You quit." Dean said.

How the hell did he knew?

"I did." Victor tried to hide his surprise but the way Dean chuckled he failed.

"How is Sam?" The question was out of his mouth before he really could think about it.

"He asks if you are alright." Spoken away from the phone.

"I'm fine." Came the answer from the distance.

"He is fine." Dean repeated. In both of their voices Victor could hear a grin. "I was surprised we weren't hot after our last stunt. I thought abducting an FBI agent would make more noise."

"I convinced the maid to not call the police." Now it was Victor's time to grin. "Told her my friends pulled a prank on me."

A pause then a chuckle. "So we are friends now?"

"Hey, you are not the only one who can sweet talk yourself out of a situation." It was like talking to an old friend. Odd and in so many ways wrong Victor didn't know where to start ... but it felt right.

"I'm surprised to hear from you." Actually this call was the last thing he had expected. And considering how careful he usual was Dean should have ended the call minutes ago to avoid being traced. They were wanted criminals after all.

"Yeah, you know ..." Dean was searching for the right words. "We are kinda the reason you are in the situation you are in right now."

Victor raised his eyebrows, that was unexpected. "So what? You fell kinda responsible for me?"

"Sort of." He sounded as if this conservation caused him physical pain. In the background Victor heard Sam laughing. He wondered what kind of bet Dean had lost he had to make this call and not Sam.

"Look." Dean continued. "You go out there alone you most likely don't find what you are looking for. And if you actually manage to find it, it will kill you."

Dean was probably right Victor had to admit. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

"So, what do you suggest?" Victor asked.

"This is the point where you have to choose. Red or blue pill. And I can tell you that much, this rabbit-hole is going to be really deep." Dean answered. Except for his cheerfully movie reference he sounded damn serious. "We can teach you the basics. Help you to start your hunting career without getting killed immediately."

"So that's what you call it? Hunting?" Victor had been called a civilian by them but they never told him what they call themselves. Back then he was too frightened to agitate the psychopathic serial killer to ask such questions. Now he was about to put his life once again – this time willingly – into the hands of said psychopathic serial killer.

"Yeah, we are hunters." Dean said it with pride. "Are you on it or not?"

Victor thought about it for a long minute. It felt like he was falling down the rabbit hole already. Then he took a deep breath and said one word: "Yes."

A week later Victor leaned against a rented car he had no intention to bring back. Next to his feet he had two bags in which he carried what was left of his life. Basically some clothes, his laptop and all the money he could acquire.

Here he stood at the side of a back road in the middle of nowhere, nervous like a prom date waiting to be picked up.


	3. Chapter 3

Victor waited. He was early so nothing to worry about. They would be there any minute. Victor looked up and down the empty road. Nothing. Would they come both to pick him up or just one of them? It would be Dean Victor assumed, leaving Sam behind where it was save. At this thought Victor frowned. A week ago he had been an FBI agent. In Dean's stead would he trust somebody he barley new? Especially if he was a fugitive and the other one worked for the FBI? What if the Winchesters thought this was a trick to arrest them?

Victor checked his watch. Almost time and no car in sight. With his eyes closed he leaned his head back and let the wind cool his face. He tasted salty sweat on his lips and his palms were clammy. So nervous he hadn't been since his first date as a teenager. He let out a hollow laugh.

"They'll come." He tried to convince himself. But ..., the small voice in his head whispered, what if they just prank you? If they are somewhere near watching him and laughing their asses off? Did they had a bet running how long he would stand here waiting?

Victor opened his eyes and looked around. There where hiding places. On his side of the road under the bushes or behind the trees and on the other side in a corn field. They could be near by and he had no chance to spot them. Thinking about it, he felt watched. He had that tingling in his neck he had learned to trust. But this time he wasn't sure. Maybe he had just thought to much about being watched. He took a deep breath. Nobody around. Another look at his watch, they were late.

"Five minutes." He promised himself. "If they don't show up within the next five minutes ..."

In the distance he spotted a car. Victor straightened up. "Here we go."

But as the car came closer he realized it wasn't the old, black muscle car he had expected. It was old, an old truck; rusty and most of it's color had been flaked off.

Victor stepped back to let it pass but it came to a halt right next to him. Unexpected but he could roll with it. He peered inside. No Winchester, neither of them.

"Ya Henriksen?" A man climbed out of the truck. Older than Victor with a salt and pepper beard and a trucker cap deep into his face.

"Yes?" He stepped closer not sure what to make out of this situation. "And you are?"

"Ya driver."

OK, not much of a talker. "Did Dean Winchester send you?" It was a stupid question Victor knew. Who else would have send this man? But this wasn't quite what he had expected.

"Look man." The guy adjusted his cap. "I get paid for picking you up. I don't ask names, I don't wanna know."

"OK." Victor clapped his hands. "Let's go." He grabbed his bags but the man hold his hand up to stop him.

"First things first." He turned back to his truck and opened the passenger door. He came back with something in his hand that looked like it had been a walkie-talkie in its past life. What it was now Victor had no idea.

"First I have to make sure you are not wired." The man explained and moved that thing around Victor. Knowing the procedure Victor lifted his arms and moved his feet farther apart. After he had checked Victor and his bags without the detector giving alarm the man smiled like he wanted to apologize.

"Can't be too sure."

"I wouldn't expect less." Of course they had to make sure this wasn't a trap. "Can we go now?"

"In a minute." He put the device away and came back with a bottle of water. "Have a drink and we can go."

Victor licked his suddenly dry lips. The bottle had been opened before he could see that.

"What's in there?" Victor asked. It looked like water but he was damn sure it wasn't just water.

"Hey, I'm just the driver." The man shrugged his shoulders. "I just follow my orders. You take a sip and we can go. You don't you stay here."

Victor took the bottle. It was like his first encounter with the Winchesters. Back then he had hesitated too to drink what they had offered. But this time it would make sense to drug him. Knocked out this guy could drive him anywhere.

"OK." He took a small sip just enough to wet his lips but the guy watching him closely seemed satisfied. Licking his lips Victor tried to find out what the water was spiced with. It tasted like water and nothing else.

"Hop in." The man said and climbed into the driver seat. "We have a five hour drive ahead."

"And where is this trip going?" Victor dropped his bags in the back and eased himself into the passenger seat.

"That way." He nodded along the road.

"OK." This would be a long ride. Victor stared out the window and waited for the spiced water to kick in. After twenty minutes he still didn't feel anything. No dizziness, his head was clear and he didn't felt sleepy.

"C'mon." The man suddenly broke the silence and got Victor startled. "You are stiff like a board. Relax, this isn't your Ned Beatty time."

Victor let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Shaking his head he smiled.

"This is the craziest thing I ever did."

"You have now idea." The man mumbled in his beard. Out of the corner of his eye Victor looked him over. Yeah, you are just a hired driver. And I'm Santa Claus. He wondered what kind of relationship this man had with the Winchesters. From their files he would have said they were both unable to get close to people beside themselves. But he had been wrong before.

They drove in silence on empty back roads. The driver kept an eye on the mirrors. If they would have been followed he would have noticed.

"Aren't you a little paranoid?" Victor asked him after an hour. They were alone on the road, haven't seen another car for at least half an hour.

"Keeps ya alive." Came the ruff answer. The way he said it got Victor thinking. What the Winchesters did as their _job_ he had kinda accepted. It was still weird and scary and some part of his mind was still not really convinced but he had accepted it. Now a new thought came to mind. Were they the only _hunters_ out there? Thinking about it it made sense that there were more.

"You are in the same line of work as the Winchesters, don't you?"

That got him a look with something in it which could be respect.

"You're good."

"It's my job." Then he corrected himself. "Was … my job, you know."

"It still is." The man said after a long pause. "It's not that different."

Whatever _it_ exactly was.

After three hours of driving they stopped for dinner at a diner. Victor hadn't eaten all day, he had been to nervous, but now his stomach showed his disappointment with a loud grumble. When his burger arrived he dug into it as if he had been starving for days. Got him a laugh from his driver.

"What?" He asked around a mouthful of burger. The guy just laughed harder.

"You remind me of Dean." The man finally answered. "He also inhales his burgers."

Victor swallowed and used his napkin. He remembered his first dinner with the Winchesters. While he had to eat one-handed because he was tied to that damn chair Dean had finished his burger in thirty seconds flat. Leaving stains of ketchup on the sheets of his bed. Sam hadn't been amused.

"Not long ago I would have been offended being compared to Dean Winchester."

"When it comes to his table manners you should still be." He said with a smile. They finished their meal but sat for a while with a cup of coffee.

Victor liked the man he realized. And he felt comfortable enough to ask a few questions.

"So, what was the deal with the water?" That still bothered him.

"Holy water." The man said as if that answered everything.

"Holy water?"

"There are worse things you could have been than an undercover FBI agent."

"And that would be?"

"A demon for example." He emptied his cup of coffee.

Demon. Why not? He got his mind wrapped around wendigos and shapeshifters already. Oh, and don't forget the vengeful spirits. Demons, not crazier than the other things.

"What's your name?" Victor asked half expecting to get the your-driver-answer he got earlier.

"Bobby."

"Victor."

They nodded in silent agreement. Then Bobby clapped his hands.

"Time to hit the road if we want to get anywhere today."

They drove in comfortable silence. Victor had questions, a lot of questions, but he felt that Bobby wouldn't answer them. Not yet. Maybe when they got wherever they were heading to. Or when they met with the Winchesters. If they met them. Victor wasn't sure but it was OK with him.

It was dark when Bobby turned into a driveway but for a short moment the lights of the truck highlighted a sign: Singer Salvage Yard.


	4. Chapter 4

They drove past rusty old cars. Dead cars which gave Victor the feeling of a graveyard. Could there be a better place to start his new life?

A shiny black car came in sight. Older than most of the car wracks around here but pretty much alive. Victor couldn't help it the car reminded him of a predator. Dean's car, so the Winchesters were here. Bobby parked his truck next to it. When Victor finally got his eyes of that shiny beauty he noticed the house, old and ruff just like Bobby so he figured this had to be his place. There was light inside.

"Nice place." He said just to say something as he got out of the truck. Bobby didn't answer so Victor followed him up to the front door. Now he could hear voices and Bobby let out a sigh. He opened the door.

"I told you ..." Sam said.

"Because you knew better, right? You always know better." Dean interrupted him.

There they stood, in the middle of what seemed to be a living room but with way to many books around, staring at each other fists clenched and faces red. The famous Winchester brothers.

"What are you? Five?" Sam yelled into his brothers face.

"Yeah, and you acted so mature when you ..." At this moment Dean noticed they weren't alone anymore. "Hey guys." He said with a wide grin on his face before he glanced once again at his brother. Somewhere rang a phone. Sam throw his hands in the air and stomped out of the room.

Victor glanced Bobby a questioning look who shook his head and mouthed: Don't ask.

"How was the drive?" Dean asked as if nothing had happened.

"Do I want to know what you two idjits are up to now?" Bobby passed Dean and went to the kitchen. A second later he came back with four beers in his hands.

"It's nothing." Dean tried to reassure Bobby who didn't seemed convinced. "So, any problems?"

"Nah." He took a gulp of his beer. "But next time you need somebody for a ten hour drive to pick up a stray puppy find somebody else." Another sip and he smiled at Victor. "Nothing against you boy but I have other things to do."

Stray puppy. Victor wasn't sure if he should laugh or be offended.

"And you need a secretary. Seriously. A hot one." Dean nodded towards the door where Sam had disappeared. "The phones of yours? They didn't stop ringing the whole day."

"As if you ever answered one of the calls." Sam was back a notebook in his hand.

"Somebody had to do the work on the car. I can already hear you bitching around when she breaks in the middle of nowhere."

Sam ignored his brother. "OK, Bobby. Ellen called if you heard something about Jo. She is worried, it had been a while since her last postcard."

"Last thing I heard was that poltergeist in Nevada she took care off. But that was over a month ago." Bobby handed Sam a beer.

"Gerry wants to know if you got the Greek translation finished she asked for."

Victor listened in silent awe as Sam continued to make his rapport. What was this? Some sort of supernatural headquarter?

"The last call came from Garth." Sam sighed. "He is calling the whole day, seemed more panicked every time."

"What he wants?" Bobby asked.

"He wants something to hide him from a cat." Sam finally said rubbing his eyes.

"What kind of cat? Werecat, skinwalker? Hell, there are gods who like to disguise as cats." Bobby sounded damn serious but Victor had to bit the insides of his cheeks to stop himself from laughing.

Another sigh from Sam. "He wouldn't tell but I think it might be just a domestic cat."

Now it was Dean laughing.

"Maybe he is cursed." Bobby assumed.

"Yeah, with stupidity." Dean brought the words out between harsh breathes. "I have no idea how he is still alive."

Bobby mumbled something about idjits, grabbed the notebook from Sam and left the kitchen.

"That was without a doubt the weirdest conversation I ever heard." Victor broke the moment of silence.

"You'll get used to it." Sam promised with a smile.

"OK, here is the deal." Suddenly Dean was all business. "We stay here for another day or two till we find ourselves a hunt. We'll use the time to teach you the basics. Then we take you along for a few gigs and introduce you to some people."

"Sounds like a plan." Victor finished his beer and his hands were shaking just a little bit.

They showed him his room, right next to the Winchesters. It was late so they called it a day and went to bed. Only Bobby stayed up to make his calls. Victor could hear his voice while he lay in the bed and tried to sort the information he just got. It felt like he had entered a whole new world.

The thoughts running in his head didn't let Victor sleep very well and he was up early. Carefully not to disturb the others he got dressed and went down the stairs. Not sure what to do next, he decided to get a look around. Nobody had forbidden it and he was supposed to stay here for a while but he still felt like an intruder. On the other hand he was curious.

There were books everywhere, on shelves, on tables, at piles on the floor. Victor picked one up, an old leather-bound one, it was written in something he assumed was Latin.

Then he found the phones. Victor swallowed dryly as the meaning of what he saw sunk in. Each phone was labeled with an agency and a name. What Bobby did with them Victor didn't really know but it was highly illegal that was for sure.

"Oh, Victor." He murmured. "What did you got yourself into?"

He turned and his eye caught something on the ceiling. A large circle with lines and symbols he only could describe as occult.

"That's a devil's trap." Sam suddenly said behind him.

Victor startled. How could this boy move so quiet?

"I ..." He started to explain. And no, he didn't feel like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"It's a trap for demons." Sam explained as if nothing was wrong. "Lure them under that and they are not going anywhere till you exorcised them and send them back to hell. Just make sure not to break a devil's trap." The last part he said with a weak smile.

"To trap a demon?" Victor wasn't sure if he was buying it.

"I'm up to a run." Sam changed the subject. "Wanna join me?"

Now Victor noticed that Sam was dressed in a T-Shirt and jogging pants.

"Sure, why not?"

A few minutes later they were out of the house. Sam set a pace Victor could go with but he got a feeling Sam could outrun him anytime.

"What about the brother of yours?" Victor asked.

At that Sam laughed. "Still fast asleep. It's way to early for him. And one good advice? Don't bother him till he got his first dose of caffeine."

They ran in silence for a while. Victor was already breathing heavier and sweat covered his face while Sam hadn't broke out in a sweat at all. He was not in such a good shape he thought he was, Victor realized. And he hadn't got clawed up recently.

"How is your side?" Short of breath Victor had trouble to get the words out.

"That's the reason we are running." The bastard said in a normal voice. "I was out for a few days. Have to get my muscles back to work. And the lungs. Ribcage damage can cause serious breathing troubles."

"Don't … sound … breathing trouble." Damn. Who was the one with the injury here?

"Dean would argue about that."

They finished the run in silence simply because Victor needed all the air just for breathing. When they entered Bobby's house they found Dean and Bobby in the kitchen over mugs of coffee. Victor never had smelled something better. Maybe the bacon which was in the pan.

"How was he?" Dean asked while Bobby handed Victor a steaming mug. Relieved Victor sank in a chair.

"He can use a bit of training." Sam answered with an apologizing smile to Victor.

"Make that a lot of training." He corrected. He was realistic if he wanted to keep up with the Winchesters he had to train a lot.

Bobby served breakfast and for a moment they ate quietly.

"So, what are you boys up to today?" Bobby asked. "After you two got a shower." The last bit was directed to Sam and Victor.

"I want to change the oil." Dean had already finished his breakfast. "After that she is ready to go. If somebody figure at where to go." He glanced his brother a look.

"I know you can do research, too."

"But I don't need to because for that I have a geek sidekick brother." He snagged some bacon of his brother's plate. Halfhearted Sam tried to hit his hand with his fork.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

They both smiled in comfort leaving Victor completely lost.

"Oh, and later I want to see how good you are hand-to-hand and with a gun." Dean said pointing with another stolen bit of bacon to Victor.

"Dude, you're just gross." With a sigh Sam gave up and shoved his plate away.

"What is this? Tease the rookie?" Victor looked Dean in the eye. "I was FBI, I know how to shoot."

"Like what?" Dean stand the stare. "You had to do a test at the shooting range once a year? And if you failed you could repeat it three times?"

Victor shifted on his seat. "Something like that."

"How often did you have to pull out your gun for real? How often did you actually shoot? How often did you kill?"

Dean gave him no time to answer.

"You hunted people. People run, people surrender when there is no way out." He paused for a moment. "The things we hunt are stronger and faster than human. Some of them give a shit about laws of physics. They don't run, they don't surrender. It's you or them." Another pause. Next to Victor Sam fiddled with his mug and Bobby was very interested in the newspaper.

"If we hunt together I have to know you." Dean continued. "I have to know what you are capable of. Because I have to trust you out there. I'm going to put my life in your hands. I'm going to put Sam's life in your hands."


	5. Chapter 5

"Better haven't used all the hot water." Sam muttered when he passed Victor on the stairs. Before Victor could say anything Sam had shut the bathroom door. Pulling a shirt over his still damp body Victor joined Bobby in the living room. The older man was already occupied in a book. Where Dean was Victor couldn't tell, probably outside to change the oil like he said.

"Don't mind if they are a bit grumpy. Both of them. They stayed here for over a week, they are itching to get back on the road again." With a nod he offered Victor the chair in front of his desk.

"So what is this place? To them? Their operation base? Their home?" He never really figured out where the Winchesters lived. If they even had a place called home. But everybody had a place called home, right?

Bobby adjusted his cap with a sad smile. "They crash here once in a while."

For a moment Victor waited for the other man to explain but he didn't.

"Here, ya better start taking notes." With that Bobby handed him a leather journal pretty much like the one he had seen with the Winchesters. But this one was new and empty.

After a few hours the first sides where filled with different ways to protect himself and an Latin exorcism he surly would never pronounce correctly. And in his pocked he had charm to protect him from getting possessed. He felt a bit like a new age witch, how could such a little thing do him any good? But he said nothing and tucked it away. It was the same symbol he had seen as tattoos on both Winchesters chests, so it had a meaning to them.

Over the morning the phones rang a few times. Mostly other hunters who needed help from Bobby. Victor listened still in awe how naturally the man talked about ghosts and vampires. But once or twice one of the labeled phones rang. Every time Bobby answered one of those Victor's guts twisted. This wasn't just impersonating an officer, Bobby backed up hunters impersonating an officer which made it kinda worse. This nice but a little gruff man was a conman to the bones.

"Then shoot the damn cat." Bobby yelled into the phone. "Salt'n'burn that bitch but don't bother me with this crap. Understand me, Garth?" Without waiting for an answer he slammed the phone down. "Idjit!"

Victor shook his head wondering if he would wake up any minute.

"Maybe I found your first hunt." Sam interrupted. He had been at the computer for hours searching through newspapers. He didn't seemed bothered by the phones at all. _Because yesterday he did the job,_ Victor had to remind himself.

"What is it?" After all the theoretical stuff Victor was ready for some action. Something that reassured him that this wasn't a wild-goose chase. That he didn't throw his life away for nothing.

"Not sure what or if this is our kind of problem, but this looks suspicious." Sam turned his laptop so Victor could read the article.

"A dead women." Victor read the article a second time. It was rather short and didn't give away a lot of information. "What's suspicious about her?"

"She is the third victim." Sam explained. A few clicks and another article popped up. "There was a string of murders back in the seventieth. Same type of victim."

Victor nodded. This he could work with. It was pretty much like his old job. Find the clues, put them together and find the bad guy. But this would not end with handcuffs. He wondered what kind of supernatural thing could be behind this murders. But maybe it was just a normal serial killer. Just a man. The old fear ran it's cold fingers down his spine. Could the Winchesters stop if this was not a supernatural monster? Or would they commit cold-blooded murder? Dean could shoot a man without a second thought. Or was that another fact he got wrong about the brothers? He wasn't so sure what to believe anymore.

As if Dean had heard Victor's thought he strolled in a grin on his face.

"Enough with the dusty old books. Let's do some shooting."

Victor thought he had seen most of the Winchesters, knew all the important things. Then Dean opened the trunk of his car.

Victor let out an impressed whistle.

"OK, armed and dangerous was an understatement."

Dean's grin got wider.

"What is all this stuff?" The guns Victor knew and the ammunition boxes too but there was more. A lot more. Knives, bags with salt, a gas canister, tools, a dreamcatcher, a compass, wooden stakes, metal stakes, herbs.

"The tools for the job." Dean said not without pride. "But before I let you play with my toys ..." He loaded a gun.

"You know this goes both ways." Victor took the gun. "I want to see how good you are, too."

"Uh, a competition. Hear that, Sammy?"

Sam gave Victor an apologizing smile like he was already sorry for Victor loosing.

"OK, let's do this." Victor straightened. He was a good shot, he knew that. And maybe it was time to take Dean down a peg or two.

On a door of one of the car wracks Dean had painted a target. The distance was almost the same Victor knew from the shooting range.

"You first." Dean said still his confident grin on his face. "Three shots."

Victor got in position, the gun firm in his hands. Ignoring the three men watching him closely he took his time. Then he let out a deep breath and shot.

He didn't hit bull's eye but he got close.

"Top that." Now it was his time to grin.

"Not bad." Dean nodded in approval. Then he aimed and fired three times in a row.

"Alright, you got me." Victor and Dean crouched in front of the perforated door examining the holes. Dean had bullseyed one and the other two were still closer to the center than the closest of Victor's.

Then things happened fast.

"Left!" Sam yelled from behind. Dean rolled to the side. A shot. Landing on his ass Dean used the momentum to get on his feet, gun still firm in his hands. A can clanked to the ground.

Meanwhile Victor had just managed to stand up, searching for a threat and finding none.

"Damn it, Sammy. Wanna give me a freaking heart attack?" Dean muttered while Sam burst out laughing. Bobby next to him didn't even try to hide his smile.

"You sounded like there was a whole pack of werewolves behind me." Dean's expression shifted from lethal to mischievous. "Or like a girl afraid of a mouse."

It took Victor a moment to realize what just happened. Sam had thrown a can and Dean had shot it. In mid air. While rolling out of a crouched position because that damn thing wasn't just left but pretty much behind him. A shot Victor would have considered impossible. But examining the can proved that Dean somehow had done the impossible.

"OK, now I'm impressed."

"You should be cause I'm just awesome." Dean beamed.

"How the hell did you learn to shoot like that?" Victor couldn't help to ask.

"Training." Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"Our dad trained us since we were strong enough to hold a gun." Sam explained. "I was eight when I first fired a gun, Dean even younger."

The face Dean was pulling told Victor clearly that this was an information Dean rather would have kept to himself.

"Your dad gave you weapons at that age?" Victor knew about the paramilitary training their dad put them through but this was extreme.

"I had to be able to keep me and Sam save." Dean said with a hint of aggression in his voice.

They brought the guns back to the car. Before this Victor had wanted to see Sam's shooting abilities too, but now he didn't say anything about that. His ego was bruised enough.

"So, what about a little hand-to-hand?" Bouncing on his feet Dean looked more like a three-year-old on a sugar high.

Victor sighed. He got the feeling that this wouldn't turn out better than the shooting.

"Wanna see that." Sam said with way to much enthusiasm.

"Cause this time it ain't ya ass he's kicking." Bobby wasn't any help either.

Before they could went into action they were interrupted by a car coming down the driveway.

"Customer." Bobby adjusted his cap. "Don't start without me. Can't miss that."

"What is that about?" Sam asked, his attention was on Bobby and the customer. Victor followed his sight and looked closer at the man.

"Crap. What is he doing here?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Who is that?" Dean asked hand lingering over his gun in the trunk. Sam had taken Victor's gun and was holding it at his side covered by the car and his body.

Victor swallowed dryly.

"His name is Rick." He hesitated. "He is a friend of mine."

"This isn't a girl's slumber party you can invite yourself into." Dean said.

"I didn't invite him. Hell, he isn't supposed to know where I am." Should he tell them that Rick worked for the FBI? If Rick recognized the Winchesters …

But it was already to late. Rick spotted him. _Here we go, damn._

"Vic!" He waved. Then his hand froze in midair. Even over the distance Victor could see the color draining of his face. Shit. He had recognized the brothers that much was obvious. No wonder the Winchester brothers were kinda hard to miss.

The Winchesters moved. Without a word and barley a look they split up, weapons trained at Rick cornering him between his car and the house. Seconds stretched endless giving Victor time to notice the smoothness of their moves like they had done this their entire life. They knew exactly what the other would do.

"Victor?" Rick squeaked his eyes behind the glasses huge like in a comic. If it wasn't so damn serious Victor would have laughed. From somewhere Bobby had produced a shotgun. Rick's eyes darted back and forth between the three weapons trained at him and Victor. _Help me_, was the clear message which got Victor in action. With rapid strides he caught up with the brothers.

"Enough!" Victor yelled. "Put the guns down." To his surprise three barrels suddenly pointed to the ground. But their stand remained weary, ready to shoot the second Rick blinked wrong.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked. Rick yelped and tried to melt into the hood of his car. Standing face to face to Dean Winchester had this effect to people, Victor knew from experience. And Rick wasn't even an agent he was a lab guy for Christ's sake.

"You are ... Dean Winchester." Rick stated the obvious. He gave the rabbit and snake thing a whole new meaning.

"And you are?" His voice a low growl.

"Would you stop it before he pees himself?" Victor stepped between Rick and Dean. "All of you?" He glanced at Bobby and Sam before he locked eye with Dean.

"His name is Rick Sanders. He is a lab technician. He is a friend." Victor fought the desire to look away. "He is no threat." He added as calm as he could manage.

Dean didn't brake the stare while the information sunk in. "So, you're FBI?"

"Uh … sort of?" Rick peeped from behind Victor.

"Great. Just fricking great." Dean ran a hand over his face and then turned to Sam. "Sam?"

They exchanged a look before they both nodded like they had came to an agreement.

"OK, let's get inside." Waving his gun Dean leaded Victor and Rick towards the door.

Victor knew how it looked like. The Winchesters had trusted him and now it looked like he had betrayed them. They wouldn't kill him or Rick he knew that much about them by now, but he was pretty sure they would take off in a few minutes. Never to be seen again. Dammit.

"Why the hell did you come here?" He asked. Then another thought occurred to him. "How did you even find me?"

"Lab genius, remember?" For a second his goofy grin reappeared. Then he remembered the situation he was in and the grin vanished. "What will they do with us?" He whispered but most certainly everybody heard him.

"Nothing." Victor said with a sigh. "You just stumbled into something you don't understand. It's not what it looks like." He wasn't sure who he addressed with the last sentence Rick or the hunters. They had just begun to trust him. Victor wanted this, he had given up his past life for this and now Rick had shown up and ruined everything.

"Take a seat." Dean sat with Rick and Victor at the kitchen table while Sam and Bobby flanked Dean like bodyguards. All three of them had still their guns in hand. Not pointing at anybody but it made Victor still uneasy.

"Why did you come here?" Dean asked Rick.

"I ..." Searching for help he looked at Victor. "You were acting weird, you quit your job and then you just vanished without a word. Leaving your goddamned car in the middle of nowhere." He stopped and ran a hand through his already messy hair. "I thought you were in trouble, kidnapped maybe … or worse." With his last words he glanced at Dean. Yeah, worse. Dean just stared him down what was not helping in any way. Victor sighed again.

"Enough." Bobby stored his shotgun in the corner and opened the fridge. "How about we talk this one out over some nice bottles of beer?"

Victor wasn't sure if he wanted a beer but to reassure Rick he took one.

"So, you are a friend of Victor?" Sam took the chair beside Rick who only flinched a little. Rick nodded and shoved the glasses back up his nose. His hand trembled but he hold himself better together than Victor had expected. For Rick the Winchesters were psychopathic killers after all. Hell, he must be scared out of his mind.

Sam smiled at Rick who couldn't quite look away from Dean who had finally put away his gun. Not that he wasn't able to handle Rick with his bare hands. Or just with his goddamn stare. If this went on for longer Rick would have a hole burned into his skull.

"Hey, it's fine. Nobody is going to hurt you." Sam's expression was honest. With that face he could sell fridges in Alaska. Rick relaxed visibly and they clanked their bottles together. A little smile on his lips Rick took a sip of his beer. And then things went completely wrong.

Hissing white smoke Rick went down. Victor watched in horror as his friend screamed in pain while he fell of the chair and half under the table.

"Shit!" Sam jumped back nearly tripping over his chair. A "son of a bitch" on his lips Dean was on his feet too but it was Bobby who walked calmly around the table, bent down to Rick and lifted his fist to punch him unconscious.

Grabbing his fist Victor hold him back before Bobby could set his punch.

"What did you do to him?" Victor yelled Bobby in the face. The heavy smell of spilled beer caused him nausea. "What the hell did you do to him?"

Rick used the distraction to curl under the table.

"He's a demon." Bobby answered with gritted teeth. With an angry shake he broke out of Victor's grip. For a man his age Bobby was strong.

"Dean!" Sam's scream brought Victor's attention back to the scene in front of him.

Dean flew backwards into the fridge. Not stumbling, not falling. Damn fucking flying. Head first into the metal door of the fridge. Like a rag doll he went down.

"Dean!" Sam yelled again. He darted forwards to his unconscious brother but was cut off by Rick who smashed the table to the side and was now standing between the brothers.

"_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas .._." Latin words flew out of Sam's mouth so fast they slurred together. Suddenly Rick's eyes were black. Another painful hiss and he moved his head in a way no human should be able to.

Next second Sam grunted in pain and was pinned to the wall. His feet had no contact with the floor anymore and he had trouble breathing. From Victor's left Bobby started to speak Latin too but was stopped the same way as Sam. Dean on the floor – unconscious or dead – Sam and Bobby pinned to the walls choking like they had pissed off Darth fucking Vader, Victor was the only one standing. And he had no idea what to do.

Rick grinned at him his eyes still black.

"Thanks, Vic. They almost got me."


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks, Vic. They almost got me._ The words were echoing in his mind.

"Calm down, nobody has to get hurt." Victor switched into his FBI agent mood. _Shit. Think, think._ Victor glanced at Sam and Bobby who were still struggling against the force that kept them at the walls. No help from there. Dean hadn't moved either. Was he even breathing?

"I am calm." Rick had still his crazy grin on his face. He stepped closer and Victor backed of a step. "And for the hurt part. Well, the world doesn't need another hunter." He tilted his head. "And I think, I'll off Singer over there too. To bad the Winchesters are hands off." He pouted and it was just so wrong on his black-eyed face.

Victor wanted to say something – he was not really sure what – but he never got the chance. Like gotten hit by a train he flew through the door, landed hard on the floor and slid a few feet before he found a sudden stop in a pile of books.

Shaking his head he fought the dizziness and tried to get up. He managed to get on his hands and knees before Rick was over him. His foot connected with Victor's head. Stars exploded behind his eyes and he went down.

"Vic, Vic, Vic." Rick's voice seemed to come out of the distance. "You should have stayed at the FBI. Really. Live a pointless, apple pie life. Hunters tend to die young, you know?"

Then Victor went flying again. This time he was stopped by Bobby's desk. For a second he couldn't breath. His rips were on fire, definitely bruised maybe broken. But it wasn't as bad as his head. His vision swam in front of his eyes.

"Come here." He tried to yell but the words came out like a whisper. "You wanna kill me? Then do it with your bare hands. Look me in the eye when you do it. Come here!"

"That should be fun." Like he was on a damn cocktail party he strolled towards Victor.

"I think I'll just punch you to death. How does that sou..." Rick ran into an invisible wall. Squinting at the ceiling Victor prayed that it wasn't all shit Sam had told him.

"I think I'll pass." He could feel a maniac grin creeping on his face. Rick on the other hand wasn't grinning anymore. If anything he looked puzzled. He tried once again to get a step closer to Victor but he couldn't.

"Wasn't sure if this thing really works." From his position on the floor Victor pointed to the ceiling above Rick. Slowly he looked up at the devil's trap.

"Good thinking, boy." Bobby stood in the door. Over his shoulder he asked: "How is he?"

"He … is fine." Answered Dean's voice instead of Sam's. So he was at least conscious again. Victor couldn't see neither of them from his position but he had no intention to move. Clenching his hand over his rips he was busy enough breathing. And his head was killing him. Fuck, it hurts.

"I thought we were friends." Rick muttered and looked like Rick again. His eyes were normal and he shoved his glasses back on his nose.

"Rick is my friend." Every breath burned in his lungs but he had to make this point clear. "You are not Rick." With closed eyes he fought the need to puke.

"Ah Vic, I'm the only Rick you ever met." He crouched to get to eye-level with Victor. "I took this body over a year ago. Long before we met. And I have to admit, I lost Rick somewhere along the ride. He is dead. Died month ago. Sorry." The grin was back and it didn't looked sorry at all. "I should have killed you and Singer when he picked you up."

"Why haven't you?" Every word was a fight but he needed to know.

"Every other hunter I would have killed right there. But Singer … I wasn't sure." He took the time to clean his glasses with his sleeve.

"Why?" Sam stood in the door. Behind him Victor could see Dean wobbling on his legs a hand on Sam's shoulder to keep him upright but a lethal look in his eyes. "Because of the big master plan?"

"I'm too unimportant to know shit about the big plan." He stood face to face with Sam. "I'm following orders. And I was sick of sitting in a crappy lab and manipulating evidences. So when I saw a chance to prove myself I took it. Didn't expect you here." He looked rather disappointed. The glasses were low on his nose again.

"Manipulating?" It was hard to make sense out of the words through the pulsating pain in his head but this part Victor got.

"I did you a favor." Ignoring Victor Rick spoke to Sam. "We made sure you didn't settle down in Stanford and we don't want you in prison either." Now he turned to Victor.

"Sorry, Vic. But even if you caught the Winchesters there is no way to convict them." Despite the fact he was trapped he looked like he just got the cream.

"Great." It was Dean who spoke first. "Now demons are helping us?"

"Time to shove your ass back to hell." Bobby stepped closer and stood right outside the trap. Latin words rushed over him and this time Rick didn't or couldn't do anything to stop it. He screamed before he finally throw his head back. Black smoke came out of his mouth, circled under the ceiling and then it vanished. With a thud Rick's body hit the ground.

Victor looked in dead eyes. The glasses had finally fallen off.

Rick was dead. Had been dead all the time. Demon. The last thought drifted through Victor's mind and after that there was only darkness.

"Hey, boy. Ya with me?"

Victor grunted and opened his eyes. The light was too bright and his vision was still swimming. There were two Bobbys in front of him, so he shut his eyes again.

"Stay awake." A rough hand on his face. Why couldn't he let him drift back into darkness?

"Head hurts." The words slurred on his lips.

"I know. But I don't think you cracked your head, just a mother of a headache and maybe a mild concussion." The voice washed over him but the words didn't sink in. "Can you sit up?"

Without hesitation Bobby manhandled him into a sitting position. Victor bit back a grunt of pain. Somehow he had trouble breathing but he had no clue why.

"Let me look at your ribs and then you can get some nice, little painkillers. Sounds good?"

Victor tried a nod but regretted it the same second. His head just wanted to split apart. "What happened?"

"You just survived your first demon."

Somehow he survived the next hour too. The painkillers did their job – Victor didn't want to know where Bobby got them in the first place – and he could move without his head cracking open. Dean was in the same condition minus the bruised ribs, thank god nothing broken, but he was sucking it up much better. Victor just wanted to sleep. Get into bed and sleep for twenty-four hours straight. But the Winchesters had other ideas. While Victor and Dean sat at the kitchen table holding ice packs to their heads Sam swept through the house packing.

"What now?" Victor asked. _Is the offer still standing? Do you still trust me enough to take me along?_ That were the questions he didn't dare to ask. They hadn't kicked him out by by now, so maybe …

"Bobby will take care of the body." Dean answered not looking at Victor. "Time to take off."

This second Sam came in. "Our stuff is in the car, we are ready to go." But instead of heading back outside he sat down next to Victor.

"Sorry for your friend." He said real sympathy in his voice.

"Yeah." Was all Victor could say. He needed time to sort things out and get his mind wrapped around the idea that the whole time Rick had not been Rick. That he actually had never med real Rick. Victor stared at his hands on the table.

"OK, let's get moving." Dean stood up. With one hand at the fridge he had to stabilize himself but after a second he stood as nothing ever happened.

"Dean, give me the keys." Sam hold out his hand but his brother just stared at him.

"I can drive."

Dean's place was in a bed preferably in an hospital if somebody would bother to ask Victor. And Victor wouldn't mind taking the bed next to him. But hospitals seemingly didn't play a major role in the life of a Winchester.

"You have a concussion." Apparently Sam thought the same. At least about Dean's condition.

"I drove in worse conditions." Dean pointed out and the way Sam sighed at this statement it was more than true.

"But this time I'm not bleeding to death in the backseat." Next time Victor could think straight again he would ask about this story.

"Better not. Blood on the upholstery is a bitch, bitch." Dean tried his trademark smirk but it looked a bit painful.

"Just give me the keys, jerk."

Without further bickering Dean handed over the keys and they both turned towards the door.

Neither of them invited Victor to come along. The door closed behind them. OK, that answered Victor's questions. With a sigh he adjusted the ice pack. His head and his ribs hurt to much to think about his future. Maybe he should just sit here till Bobby kicked him out.

Suddenly the door opened again and Dean stuck his head in.

"Are you coming or what?"

***end***

* * *

><p>Yes, this is the end of "Down the Rabbit Hole". I know I'm evil, that's nothing new.<p>

I want to thank everybody who enjoyed this story with me. It's just amazing how many people read it, left a review or put it on their alert/favorite list.

Maybe I'll do a oneshot or two till November and then it's NaNoWriMo time. So no fanfiction in November.

Victor's journey will continue in the third part of this 'verse "The World You Thought You Lived In" which I'll start in December.


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